Convert or Die
by Mistina
Summary: [Response to Serpent in the Shadows Challenge 6] [SLASH]  [HPRiddick Xover]  The new Lord Marshall's destructive path of of assimilation leads the Necromongers to a planet called Earth where they are faced with the unexpected.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. Also unfortunate, Riddick and his world belong to Universal. All I own is this particular plot line... yet even that is questionable. TT

**Author:** Mistina

**Beta-Reader:** I am currently looking for one. Anyone interested?

**Pairings:** Harry/Riddick. If you couldn't tell, this is a slash fic. You have been warned!

**Synopsis:** This is written for Serpent in the Shadows' _challenge #6_. Here's the summary she wrote for my use:

_"UnderVerse - What the Necromongers all strive and live for. The New Lord Marshall Riddick decides that it's time to take his newly won people and go to the one place he had heard so much about - if only to rid the universe of these people and their foul religion. But when his fleet entered, Riddick didn't think that a lush, green forest sitting on the edge of a stone castle and a group of humans clothed in 'dresses' pointing sticks at them, being led by a green-eyed man, was what the Necros had in mind."_

Additionally, I'm using the canon of the Riddick series and the HP cannon up to DH... I changed the end because I really did not like DH... .;

**Author's Note:** First, I haven't written a fic in YEARS and this is a piece written on impulse, thus un-beta'ed and not planned thoroughly. (note, I do have a plan, I just haven't planned this out as thoroughly as my other stuff...)

Second, I decided to take up this challenge because I adore Serpent in the Shadows' fic, "_Worth the Wait_" and discovered, to my astonishment ( and probably to the astonishment and disgust of my friends ), that there aren't enough Harry/Riddick fics. If you like slash, GO READ IT! ( after reading this, of course. ;; )

Third, since we're on the topic of slash, this is my first... sooo...

**Flames will be tolerated but reviews (with constructive criticism) would very much be appreciated. So, please R&R.**

**-- -•- --**

**Convert or Die**

**-- -•- --**

_Necromongers: A faith driven race of unknown origin. They travel from planet to planet seeking the UnderVerse, their promised land. At each planet they present an ultimatum - convert or die._

**-- -•- --**

**Prologue**

_"You Keep What You Kill."_

The monochrome world around him seemed to ripple at these words as, one by one, the darkly clad Necromongers knelt before him. The defeated voice, in tandem with the sudden wave of movement around him, jerked him from his contemplations.

In his exhaustion, he had completely forgotten the creed this race lived by. Lowering his right hand from his temple, it came into contact with metal: a throne. It was then that the full implications of that creed struck. He had killed their leader. He was now their leader.

_Flashback_

_He found himself encircled by 163 undead soldiers in full armor as well as armed to the teeth. Behind them were 37 Necromonger nobles, and 23 more watched from the balcony above. He wasn't surprised. After all, it was he who crashed the Lord Marshall's party by diving at the Necro leader itself with a dagger he had claimed from one of the creature's own men._

_There he lay in a battle ring composed of steel clad, faith driven soldiers, in sight of the very creature who ruined his playground by destroying world after world. The monster who destroyed both his ties to humanity, Imam and Kyra, leaving him exactly where he started: Empty and without purpose. The Necromonger leader immediately made a fatal mistake._

_"Stay your weapons. He came for me."_

_That command had prevented the humanoid battle ring from collapsing in on itself and engulfing him in the process. He instantly crawled for his dagger. Once armed, He began to rise when the female Necro at the Lord Marshall's side lowered her hood. He froze. It was Kyra._

_"Consider this: If you fall here, now, you'll never rise. But if you choose another way, the Necromonger way..." The bastard beckoned her. "Go to him."_

_"It hurts, at first, but after a while the pain goes away just as they promise." she told him as she approached._

_What had they done to her? Was she really one of them now? If she was, she would have been better off as ash on Crematoria's surface. First she's dead, next she's the enemy. It can't be true._

_"Are you with me Kyra?" She ignored him and continued._

_"There's a moment when you can almost see the UnderVerse through his eyes. He makes it sound perfect. A place where anyone can start over."_

_"Are you **with me** Kyra?" Again, she ignored him and walked past him without another word. His silver gaze followed her as she left, every step she took heated his blood until it boiled. Twice, now, he had lost her. Now, he had nothing._

_"Convert now, or fall forever."_

_"You killed everything I know." He stated under his breath, tightening his grip on the hilt of his dagger. The blade soared at the Lord Marshall's face, grazing the right cheek as the creature just barely pulled out of the way._

_"It's been a long time since I've seen my own blood." The monster stated cooly as it held out the blade that had disfigured it, motioning for its guard to give them space. Thus the battle began._

_The Lord Marshall came at the him with incredible speed. It was like battling a ghost, as it was never where you saw it. The silver eyed warrior only got a couple of punches in where as the Necromonger pummeled him until he hit the floor._

_"These are his last moments!" it declared to his guard and the nobles watching, then crouched next to his felled enemy, placing a hand on each side of his face. "Give me your soul Furyan." it commanded, as it pulled and the said Furyan's soul slowly emerged._

_"Fuck you!" The Lord Marshall was blown off his feet as the silver eyed one successfully resisted and, as the Necromonger's guard was down, hit him with all his strength._

_He bled. It had been a long time since, he too, had seen his own blood. Not since the planet with the night creatures._

_The battle raged on, still in the Lord Marshall's Favor. Just as it seemed like he was about to die, locked in the Necro's suffocating embrace by a spear, the creature's grip on the weapon suddenly slackened as it staggered forward. Kyra had snuck up on it and stabbed it in the back, literally. His joy was extremely short-lived as the undead man struck his assailant with the spear, sending her flying backwards into a decorative spike._

_She fell limply to the ground._

_The silver eyed warrior watched as the light was slowly flickering out in his dear friend's eyes and his rage reached new levels. At that very moment, the Lord Marshall's first in command attempted to usurp its power. Using its ghosting abulity, the Lord Marshall attempted to escape only to find himself face to face with a vengeful Furyan who immediately implanted the Necromonger blade into the creature's skull as it fully materialized, snapping the blade from the hilt, leaving it in lodged in the monster's brain._

_As confusion erupted throughout the massive vessel, he immediately went for Kyra's still body. As he cradled her in his arms, she spoke feebly._

_"I thought you were dead."_

_"Are you with me Kyra?" He knew the answer already. This time, the question meant 'Are you **staying** with me, Kyra?'._

_"I was always with you." she immediately replied passionately, tearfully. "I **was**." and she was gone._

_Physically and emotionally exhausted, he hoisted himself up on the nearest piece of furniture available..._

_End Flashback_

In that moment, blinded by bloodlust, there was only him and the Lord Marshall. Having lost all sense of purpose, but one, vengeance, 'consequence was lost in the bloody haze of fury.

When that the haze lifted, grief clouded his mind in its place. However, though still grieving, he was now faced with the consequences his boiling blood and wounded heart had screened. With the Lord Marshall's blood on his hands, he now held the title, the rank.

Twin pools of liquid mercury slowly swept over the vast, metallic and macabre room and all its occupants whom reflected the decor. Though his eyes could only register heat signatures, the interior of the mother-ship a dead purple and the so-called undead were undulating humanoid outlines of white and pink, not all details were lost to him. Especially the irony that this undead empire now served him, a Furyan, a coldblooded murderer. An unexpected perfect match. Or, not quite so unexpected. He glanced at the air elemental that found her way into the crowd.

"A young warrior once consulted a seer. He was told a child would be born on the planet Furya - a male child - who would someday cause the warrior's downfall."

A smirk tugged at his lips.

He had lost all that anchored him to humanity, all that kept him from living up to his reputation. Well, not fully living up to his reputation. Perhaps, considering the circumstances he currently found himself in, he could actually become what the universe had labeled him to be, what his blood cries out to be.

Fuck you, Aereon.

**-- -•- --**

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter."

A young boy with untamable black hair, clad in a dark robe with a lion emblem stitched upon the breast sat in a large circular room before a claw-footed wooden desk. The walls were adorned with many portraits all of which seem to look upon the boy, Potter, with sympathy. Potter seemed to avoid the gaze of one portrait in particular, that of an aged man with a long silver beard, a crooked nose and melancholic twinkling eyes behind half moon glasses.

"I am most relieved that you have decided to complete your education."

Potter still did not reply to the woman behind the tidy desk. Her greying brown hair pulled back tightly into a bun, her face drawn and weary, yet stern, and her two beady eyes gazed upon her student through square glasses, worry evident though she tried to hide it.

"Did you still wish to become an Auror?"

_An Auror?_ The boy repeated in his mind. Mulling over the question, he began to reminisce, recalling the epic event that had occurred no more than two months ago. The cause of the unwanted pity he was receiving.

_Flashback_

_The time has come for the prophecy to be fulfilled._

_"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... **And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._"_**

_He stood in the ruined Great Hall of Hogwarts. He couldn't believe that Voldemort had the gall to invade the castle, even with Dumbledore gone, murdered the year before. Come to think of it, maybe it wasn't so strange after all. The former Headmaster had been murdered in this very school..._

_However, though the Dark Lord believed he had absolute control over his fate, he did not. After all, the Headmaster had planned to die, had forced professor Snape, the potions master, to kill him. This time would be no different. Voldemort will not have his way. He, no, it will die tonight._

_The said creature stood before him, tall and skeletal. It was pale and bald with a snakelike nose and slits for ears. And its eyes, those livid scarlet eyes, slitted, like that of a cat. It was a wild, heartless predator. Those eyes made the boy's blood boil as the faces of his friends, those killed in the war against this crazed homicidal and racist sociopath, flashed before his eyes._

His godfather, Sirius Black, KIA in a battle two years ago in the building tension. His Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, KIA in battle a year ago, igniting the war. Mad Eye Moody, KIA earlier this year in one of many skirmishes. Professor Snape, KIA when he was discovered as a spy by the Dark Lord an hour earlier. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Nymphandora Tonks, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey and many other innocents were KIA during this very battle.

_The boy tightened his grip on his wand, tears threatened to spill as images of the corpses that were his loved ones painfully cycled through his mind. His blood boiled. Oh yes, this creature would die tonight._

_"This ends here, Riddle!" Potter addressed the Dark Lord by his true name to remind the monster of its former mortality, as well as its recently regained mortality._

_"Indeed, it does, Potter! With your reuniting with your friends! **Avada Kadavra**!" The reptilian wizard brandished its wand and shot a green beam of light towards the boy._

_Potter brandished his own wand to defend himself, but hesitated when he felt a sudden presence in his mind. It certainly wasn't Voldemort. It wasn't threatening his mind, it was... submitting to it. Hence it clearly was not the Dark Lord surrendering because the vile creature had just cast the killing curse - which, suddenly split. A sliver of the former beam striking Harry and the rest rebounded and struck the dark wizard full in the chest. Both wizards crumpled to the ground._

_Out of the darkness, a third wizard emerged, rushing to the side of the prone body of the boy._

_"Harry! HARRY!" he shook the boy by the shoulders with inhuman strength, forgetting himself in his panic. The boy stirred._

_"...Re-Remus?" he blinked blearily. "Wha-What happened?" They both looked over towards the lifeless heap across the ruins._

_"You did it Harry. You've defeated the Dark Lord."_

_End Flashback_

He had later learned that the presence in his mind was Voldemort's wand, the Elder Wand, presenting itself to its new master and it carried out his innermost desire: defeating the Dark Lord. It allowed a miniscule portion of the killing curse to strike its master, only to destroy the shred of Voldemort he carried within. The rest of the spell was forced backwards to destroy the caster once and for all.

Years he had spent fighting. So many had died in his name. Did he truly want to become an Auror. No. He couldn't continue to live as he had, and if he became an Auror, an elite member of the Ministry of Magic's Criminal Justice division, he would do just that.

No, he would not become an Auror. Instead, he will satisfy his hero-complex through prevention. He would prepare the wizarding youth for the evil that lurked in the world.

"No, professor." He paused, raising his head to reveal a pair of magnificent emerald eyes behind round spectacles. His gaze met that of his perplexed Headmistress. "I wish to teach."


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. Riddick and his world belong to Universal. Plot based off summary written by Serpent in the Shadows.

**Author:** Mistina

**Beta-Reader:**_ Still_ looking... Anyone interested?

**Pairings:** Harry/Riddick.

**Author's Note:** Hi! Wow, I can't believe all the attention this fic is getting. I guess when the word 'SLASH' appears in the summary, everyone flocks to it. XD Seriously, though, thanks everyone:D I feel the love... Though now I also feel pressure. .

Anywho, down to business! I made some minor adjustments to the prologue... ... That's it. I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

**Flames will be tolerated but reviews (with constructive criticism) would very much be appreciated. So, please R&R.**

-- -•- --

**Convert or Die**

-- -•- --

**Chapter 1**

"_Riddick, have you come to kill the new monsters?"_

_A little girl with frizzy brown locks, milk chocolate skin and large brown eyes that glistened with hope stood alone underneath the sole ray of light in the dark abyss._

"_Riddick?"_

_A heart wrenching scream pierced the darkness and plunged the world into a crimson sea. As the viscous ocean dried, the red faded into a brittle brown and chipped away, swept off by an invisible wind that sent multiple chills up the spine._

_In the reborn dark void, a new voice emerged. A mature female voice spoke with strength and conviction, yet quivered in rage._

"_You have betrayed your blood, Fur-"_

_SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

The Lord Marshall's eyes snapped open, the sudden appearance of luminous twin orbs in the dim setting startled the patrolling guards passing through the throne room. Riddick's hand clutched his armrest, the only evidence in his composure that gave away his agitation, and casually scanned the room in an attempt to appease his restless mind.

He'd been having these dreams for years. Not since the acquisition of his current rank seven years ago, but soon after. At first, when he entered his unusual state of half sleep, he heard voices. Some sad and fearful, but most enraged and accusatory. As time wore on, faded images joined the words.

He couldn't understand how he could have possibly grown a conscience after all the lives he had taken. He was Riddick, the convict with every merc in the universe on his tail. An infamous cold-blooded killer. Now he was Lord Marshall Riddick, leader of the Necromongers, world ender. The second he breaches the threshold of his killing ways, and reaches a new level, he develops morales.

Wait. Wasn't a conscience supposed to be an annoying little voice in his head? At least that would have been something he could silence. Why did it have to be dreams?

The dreams... Now that he thought about it, the dreams had started just after he had carried out final protocol on Helion Prime, his first act as Lord Marshall. An act of goodwill to convince his new people of his loyalty. In reality, he had done it to completely sever his ties to humanoid kind. He would not make **that** mistake again.

Riddick blinked.

How could he have let himself get so lost in his thoughts? Dreams mean nothing. They are not real, hence, unimportant. Blood is real. Blood is what he lived for now. Blood that he obtains through the faith of others. A faith he had come to learn inside and out and yet he still could not accept it. Despite this, he the Necromongers had developed a mutual relationship. They had accepted that he wasn't willing to convert because his actions and apparent 'beliefs' seemed to mesh with their faith. He was the only survivor of the Necromonger ultimatum. On the topic of the Necromonger ultimatum, he had duties to attend to: the selection of new prey.

He rose from the high back throne decorated with pierced out geometric shapes with armrests adorned with macabre sculptures of pain-ridden humanoids to cross the hall of Necropolis to his strategy room. The Mother-ship had not changed at all since he had come into power, save for the lighting. Despite the comment he had made so long ago, he had left the decor alone. In truth, he couldn't care less about the decor. As long as everything functioned as it should, what did he care how it looked? With his unique vision, he wouldn't have been able to appreciate it properly anyway. Besides, the high vaulted ceiling, cold steel walls and macabre furnishings kept his people happy.

The Necro vessels weren't the only ones unchanged physically. Riddick refused to wear the armor of the Lord Marshall unless it was absolutely necessary, and by absolutely necessary, he means when the nobles constantly nag him about it for more than, and no less than, a week. Thus he is usually garbed in a form fitting, black tank top (for freedom of movement and camouflage not to show off his amazing physique as some of the females seemed to think), dark pants with plenty of pockets (but not so many that the pants are baggy), sturdy black boots, leather straps that wrap around his upper and lower forearm and run down it as well (the minimum amount of armor he would wear), and his googles, (only when he leaves the ship though).

As he entered the wallless strategy room, which was more of a small, isolated space than a room, with a table and room for four to five people... In fact, 'strategy room' is an inappropriate name for it. Selection chamber would be more accurate. They are normally superior in military might than any of their prey, so this room is simply for selecting which will be the next planet to join our ranks. There, waiting for him, were three military advisors, his seconds in command. He didn't trust them, he just trusted them more than others. One stood at each end of the aforementioned table.

The one on the left had deathly pale skin, just like every other Necro, cropped black hair and small black eyes. _Pax._ The slim one in the middle was the shortest, yet had the longest hair which was pulled back into a simple ponytail at the nape of his neck. This only increased his effeminate look as he had a flawless complexion, a small nose and thick lashes. _Taask._ The one on the right had an average build, bald with a hook nose and beady eyes. _Xal._

He took his place at the last available side of the table.

"Report."

"If we continue on our current trajectory, the nearest target would the only inhabited planet of the Terran system. Planet Earth, as its known by its population." The Necro on his left, Pax, started. The surface of the table rippled and convulsed and a three dimensional solar system emerged.

"It would be a quick and simple conquest. It is a primitive planet. The breeders are already divided and warring amongst themselves." Added Taask, the one across from him. "Also, they have no intergalactic capabilities. They managed to reach their planet's moon, but they had accomplished that with a great deal of difficulty. This also means they have had no contact with any other species."

"It would be a much needed rest from all those of those breeder planets with decent technology. It would also boost morale, an easy victory." finished the one on his right, Xal.

Riddick gazed at the three dimensional projections the table emitted with disinterest.

"A rest? Well, if you need it so much, then its decided." He pulled his black goggles out of his pocket and strapped them to his head as he turned to leave. "Our next target is Earth."

_After all. Blood is blood._

-- -•- --

The burden in his arms almost seemed to have been alleviated as he entered the open corridor that ran alongside the courtyard. The sky was a clear blue, lightly speckled with tufts of white clouds. The sturdy trees were elegant with luscious green foliage and the grass was like a fuzzy blanket rather than the prickly, freshly cut vegetation that it was.

Emerald eyes eagerly ate up the view between columns, a serene smile forming on the lips of the boy-who-lived... No, he was now the man-who-lived.

"What great weather to start the year." Harry said happily. _Now if only I could figure out how to get my game consoles to work on the grounds, then life would be perfect._

Well, he was a man in body, but not necessarily in spirit.

His black hair was still as untamable as ever and he still wore his round framed glasses. His face had matured a great deal. His eyes that no longer seemed wide and innocent yet they retained that piercing gleam and his cheekbones were more prominent. He wasn't 'built' but he was well toned thanks to his regularly playing quidditch, a pastime he never gave up, and the the fact that he had lived on his own for the last seven years so he was well-nourished. He was also taller, hitting 5'7 before he stopped growing. He was perfectly fine with his height, until some of his students started to tower over him.

Suddenly, the great bulk of parchment, quills and ink he was balancing precariously in his arms lurched forward. Just as his supplies fell from his arms and were about to become a piece of unintentional abstract art, a voice suddenly spoke.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_"

Harry unceremoniously fell the ground. Slightly dazed, he glanced upward to find his belongings floating above his head. Adjusting his round spectacles, he lowered his gaze to identify his savior. A huge grin spread across his face.

"Remus!" He leapt forward and tackled the poor werewolf, acquainting Remus, as well as reacquainting himself, with the floor. As he hugged his mentor fiercely, the sound of glass shattering jerked Harry back to reality. Looking over his shoulder, he grinned sheepishly. "Oops..." He had broken Remus' concentration thus annulling the spell he had cast.

"You know, Harry, there **are** easier methods of transporting your things." teased Remus.

"Yeah, well, you know how I at this time of year. Saving up my magical energy so that I can deal with the little monsters when the term starts-" suddenly realizing that he was still sitting on top of his former professor, in a comprising position, he immediately jumped off and brushed himself off, slightly red. "Especially the Weasley girls. I swear, they must have a pranking gene being passed down that family."

Lupin chuckled at this and agreed. Hefting himself from the floor, he proceeded to dust himself off as well. Harry took this opportunity to observe his former professor and best friend. It has been a while since he had last seen the werewolf. He still dressed as shabbily as ever. Lupin was wearing a ratty, patched up robe and Harry was willing to bet his entire fortune that the man's shoes were just as beat up. As soon as Harry was free of the Dursleys, he made a point to live better. Not necessarily as the rich man he was, but at least_average_. Lupin's shaggy sandy blond greying hair was unkempt, like always. His face was drawn and tired, yet still attractive, but, that attractiveness would definitely stem from his golden, animal eyes. Overall, the man hadn't changed physically over the years, except that he wasn't scarred, as far as Harry could tell.

"Yes, students may be little monsters, as you have shown me more than a decade ago," Harry half-pouted at the jab, "but you haven't dealt with students who _are_ monsters."

Harry winced at the thought of teaching wolf pups. Lupin now ran a support center for young werewolves. He had opened it a couple of years following the war. The Moon Shelter, as he had named it, dealt in helping cubs get through their full moons, teaching them how to befriend their beasts and deal with prejudice, and so on.

""So, what's the occasion? Don't tell me some hate group finally bombed the place?" This earned a pointed glare to which he quickly apologized. Needless to say, hate groups was a pressing issue for Lupin.

"No... I just felt like visiting my colleague in the instruction of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Though now I'm having second thoughts." to emphasize his threat, he turned to leave.

"No wait! I am truly sorry! It was totally uncalled for!" Harry cried out as he moved to stop the werewolf but halted when said werewolf looked over his shoulder, flashing a wolfish smirk before turning to face the boy.

"I know. I've gotten used to the sick sense of humor you've developed." Harry stalked over and smacked his friend on the shoulder, not inflicting any damage due the muscular build of the werewolf.

"But I'm still getting used to the sense of humor you got from me!" Harry couldn't keep a straight face and both men burst out laughing.

"How... How about we clean up the mess I made and head to the Great Hall for some breakfast?" Potter finally managed once the two had more or less pulled themselves together.

"That sounds great."

Harry quickly cast _scourgify_ to clean up the ink and levitated the glass shards into the nearest trash receptacle while Lupin gathered the scattered quills and parchment. They then set out for food.

A couple of corridors into the castle, Harry was beaming he was so happy, but Remus didn't seem to believe the joy his friend radiated. Frowning slightly, Lupin spoke up, hesitantly.

"Harry, are you still having the dreams?" The younger man's aura darkened instantly and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"So, you did come to check up on me..." he muttered, crestfallen.

"You didn't answer my question." Harry bit his lip.

Not long after the war, the boy-who-lived started to have the strangest dreams. In a dark abyss, apparitions that resembled his fallen friends haunted him.

As the years passed, Harry had managed to pick up the pieces of his shattered life and found happiness. Summers were spent on personal research projects, studying spells and whatnot, and catching up on his lost childhood, playing video games, seeing movies and going to the mall. The rest of the year he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts and broke the curse: no DADA teacher would last more than a year. Harry had taught for six consecutive years and is still going strong.

He was content, yet, his happiness had a pinprick hole in it, Whenever night fell, and he entered the realm of sleep, the apparitions haunted him. And it was getting only getting worse. A couple years ago, they started speaking. Distorted voices saying enigmatic things.

"How can you tell?"

"You used the glamour charm to hide the bags under your eyes again. I can tell, because your skin is impeccable today!" Lupin finished with a lame attempt at a joke/compliment/thing... It was that lame.

Harry allowed a small smile to reward his friend's effort.

"They're becoming more coherent..." he started slowly, Lupin listening attentively. "The one that looks like Sirius-" Remus flinched "-said something like, '_Beware the stars_' and the Hermione one followed with '_Death soars among them, the predator seeking new prey_' then Ron finished with '_World Enders_'. Sometimes I feel like I'm going as looney like Trelawney, but they're just dreams." Harry shrugged. "Completely meaningless."

"Perhaps..." Remus began, contemplatively. "But **you're** Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived-"

"I'm positively famished!" Harry suddenly interrupted cheerfully, all the gloom in his aura suddenly evaporated. "We'd better hurry and get to the Great Hall before they put the food away!" He grabbed the werewolf's hand and started leading him to breakfast. Lupin sighed.

The Great Hall was bustling with activity. The four tables, one for each house, was packed with students chattering excitedly, groaning about the hour or their schedules, or stuffing themselves full like a turkey. At the other end of the hall was a long table perpendicular to the student tables. Harry dragged the poor werewolf between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables towards that table, greeting his students along the way.

"Good of you to join us Pott- Oh, Remus! When did you arrive?" this was the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. After the war, all the veterans addressed each other by their first names. Amazingly enough, she hasn't changed a bit since the war... other than overcoming her grief, of course.

"Not very long ago, actually. I wanted to surprise Harry." Lupin replied amicably.

"Well, its nice of you to visit. Please, join us." she took a goblet from the table and placed it on the floor then transfigured it into a chair. She then levitated the chair between the vacant one at the end and the one occupied by the half-giant, Hagrid. Strangely enough, there was enough space there.

"Thank you, Minerva."

Just as the two men took to their seat and prepared to feast, the Hall was suddenly cast in shadow and the pair, as well as the teachers, were instantly on their feet. The sky had suddenly became overcast and the clouds were rapidly moving in strange formations. Panic erupted.

"Silence!" Minerva's voice boomed, magically enhanced, silencing the hall. "The Heads of Houses are to escort their students back to their respective dormitories where you will **all** remain until this matter has been investigated. Teachers, you're with me."

Harry and Lupin, empty stomachs and prior qualms forgotten, followed the teachers out a door onto the grounds to discovered the forbidden forest whipping about in great gales of wind, most had lost their hats while others managed to catch them, and they all observed the sky.

"What do you think, Harry?"

_Beware the stars..._

"If this is bad, which I'm pretty sure it is, I'm really glad that Minerva and I restored and upgraded the wards."


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. Riddick and his world belong to Universal. Plot is based off summary written by Serpent in the Shadows.

**Author:** Mistina

**Beta-Reader:** I received your pm, danjana, and would love for you to beta this story, however, I don't know how to contact you. TT

**Pairings:** Harry/Riddick

**WARNING:** There is some graphic gore in this chapter... Just in case some of your are squeamish.

**Author's Note:**

I am truly astounded by all the attention, **positive**attention, this fic is getting. I've gotten more reviews, favs, and alerts in two months than I have in three years! THANK YOU!!!! T.T

On an entirely different note, Lord Vaako, Karl Urban, will be the new Dr. McCoy! Holy crap! Can he do it? We shall soon find out. D

Anywho, beating down my trekkie side, down to business...

**Flames will be tolerated but reviews (with constructive criticism) would very much be appreciated. So, please R&R.**

-- -•- --

**Convert or Die**

-- -•- --

**Chapter 2**

"_My lord_..." A bald, armored Necro addressed Riddick through gritted teeth. "_**Why**_ are we in the middle of the wilderness and _**not**_ in a center of population with the rest of the armada?"

"Awe, settle down, Xal. A little photosynthesized oxygen won't kill ya." chastised Taask, tying his hair back as he skipped down the ramp off Necropolis and onto the dirt. He then he knelt down to examine the local vegetation of the planet they had just landed on, a smirk plastered on his face as he ignored his seething companion.

"I have to agree with Xal. What _**are**_ we doing away from the armada?" Pax's tone was calm and rational, with a hint of annoyance. He leaned casually against the frame of the ship's opening, sneering at the offending environment. It reeked of life.

Of the three, Riddick came the closest to trusting Taask. He was a strange Necro. One could almost describe him as happy-go-lucky. However, he had a nasty dark side...

A blur streaked across the Lord Marshall's vision and both Xal and Pax found themselves suddenly pinned against the hull, each with a blade at their throat.

"Why do you continue to question our leader? Has he not accomplished enough to earn our loyalty? He _**will**_ lead us to UnderVerse." he slowly retracted the blades and restored them to their sheaths on his thighs. "We must simply be patient and have faith." A huge grin spread across his face. "Lighten up, guys!" he laughed, patting his companions on the shoulder before whirling around and strutting down the ramp. "My lord, I'm going to see if this planet has any useful vegetation. Call me when you need me." and with an over-dramatic bow, he disappeared into the trees.

That was Taask. Happy and seemingly air-headed one minute, a lethal predator the next. An extremely useful, completely untrustworthy guy. He was enjoyable company, though, made a nice show of fidelity and was very amusing. Unlike the other two...

"Xal, Pax." Both men snapped to attention when Riddick barked their names. The Lord Marshall slowly approached his seconds with a slow, predatory walk. "You both agreed that this planet would be a simple conquest. In your own words, Xal, 'an easy victory'. Why would my troops need our help for a simple morale booster? Besides, you also said something about a rest? Congratulations, you're both on vacation!" With that said, he stalked off into the woods, ignoring Pax's mutterings.

"What a god awful place to vacation in..."

-- -•- --

When the Necromongers first came into view of their target and conducted their preliminary scans, Riddick was awestruck by the abundance of life on this world. The diagrams the scans produced were like sparkling jewels there were so many specks to represent all the life this world had. According to the raw data collected, the diagrams did the world no justice. He had never seen a world with so many, and such diverse, life-forms. He was suddenly curious about the planets predatory creatures.

As his seconds had deemed this planet a 'calkwalk', the great Lord Marshall decided to take up his military council's advice about a 'rest'. He immediately made preparations for his troops to boost their morale through independence and a 'holiday' for the higher ups and nobility... It's been a while since he pissed off his people, anyway.

With a smirk on his face, the Furyan prowled the forest, googles atop his head as the light was just right in the shade of the trees. He was visualizing the possible reactions he had sparked amongst the Necro nobles, the facial expressions of two in particular. He was hesitant about allowing the pair to live, but they proved themselves useful, much to the detriment of their dignity. Pissing them off was simple and amused him to no end, plus, they kept him on his toes, preventing boredom.

The cacophony of twig snaps and the thundering of the ground beneath his feet jerked the Furyan from his contemplations and thrust him into a state of alertness, the predator within emerging once more. Something, or somethings, were rapidly approaching, either completed inept in the skill of stealth or were making no attempt to hide their presence. He whirled around and found himself faced with a herd of quadrupeds with humanoid torsos, arms and heads.

"Who are you?" spoke the frontmost of the creatures, most likely the leader. Riddick did not respond. Instead, he merely observed the appearances of the local natives.

_Interesting._

These creatures were animal from the 'waist' down, yet their humanoid upper-half seemed to be dominant as they did not appear to be instinctual beings, rather, sentient ones. Their eyes revealed intelligence, and they were capable of speaking a common humanoid tongue.

One of the natives suddenly rushed at Riddick, halting just as the spear point it wielded was a half an inch from his throat. The Furyan didn't break a sweat. He merely smirked.

_Very interesting._

"Bane! Pull back!" the leader was incensed.

"I cannot!" growled the dark haired rebel, pressing the blade against Riddick's throat, drawing a pinprick of blood. "This creature's mere presence threatens us! The stars have not foretold its coming."

Riddick suddenly let out a deep laugh just as the leader was about to reprimand, earning a glare from the heated youth.

"For a race that seemed intelligent, the fact that the stars _speak_ to you has ruined my first impression of your species."

The creature named Bane was enraged and rose his spear to strike a fatal blow but was tackled by the leader before killing the intruder.

"Bane, this will be the last time you undermine my authority. **Fall back**!"

"Awe, don't be so hard on the guy." Riddick casually dusted himself off as he defended the offending quadruped, raising many eyebrows amongst the herd. "Besides, he's right."

_A small population of sentient quadrupeds on a planet populated by six billion sentient bipeds could have only survived through segregation, isolation. Thrived off of pride and tradition. They would never submit to the Necros... Well..._ He thought, drawing his shivs. _I'll give them the choice even though I know what their answer will be._

"I have come so that you may decide: Convert or Die. Which will it be?"

-- -•- --

Harry Potter couldn't believe his luck, but soon realized that whatever it was that was happening was, in fact, inevitable.

The first seventeen years of his life was a nightmare consisting of witches, wizards and magic. Basically, a nightmare of the fantasy genre. Now, seven years after 'waking up', he seems to have 'fallen asleep' again and has found himself in a nightmare of the sci-fi genre.

The young man hoped and prayed to whatever god or omnipotent being that would listen that this nightmare wouldn't last seventeen years as well.

He had just witnessed a cuboid spacecraft land in the forbidden forest. He stood alongside his colleagues outside the school, on the vast grounds between the castle and the forest. Unlike his colleagues, however, he was not rooted to the spot upon which he stood, dumbstruck by the arrival of the macabre ship. Though Harry flinched at the ominous design of the intruder, four commanding and daunting faces crowned the top while the rest was cruelly methodical and seemingly efficient, something clicked in his brain.

"_...I'm really glad that Minerva and I restored and upgraded the wards."_

"Minerva, I'm drawing a blank. The Forbidden Forest... Is it a part of the school grounds?" the headmistress didn't respond, but the expression of sudden realization on her face indicated that she caught the implications of his query and the blood draining from her face confirmed his suspicions.

_Shit! The UFO may not have detected the school before, but after landing..._ Hissurvival instincts immediately kicked into high gear.

"Remus, go alert the ministry immediately! See if you can get assistance or even just more information. My gut tells me this isn't an isolated incident." The sudden change in weather, calm and sunny after the ship landed, and Harry's suddenly authoritative voice jerked the Hogwarts' staff back to reality.

The werewolf nodded and sprinted off towards the castle. "Minerva, may I suggest that you activate the emergency wards and inspect the ones currently up. By the look of that... _thing_, we're dealing with hostile creatures."

_Beware the Stars..._

Harry shook off the memory that resurfaced and continued to issue orders.

"Filius, gather the prefects, as well as any competent seventh year student and member of DA that are willing to volunteer. Have them help you get the students to a secure location and guard them." The small goblin nodded and rushed off. "Pomona, go alert Poppy and help her prepare for the worst-" Harry was interrupted when a huge, bulk of fur and hair grazed past him, nearly sending him hurtling to the ground and knocking the wind out of him.

"Hagrid!" Harry cried out, chasing after the half-giant. "Hagrid wait! What are you doing?"

" 'Arry! Fang and the others! We can't just leave 'em there-"

"I'll take care of them, Hagrid!" huffed Harry as he skidded in front of the groundskeeper, barring his path. "There's still a possibility that whatever it is that just landed might not be aware of our presence and, no offense Hagrid, you've never been one for stealth." _Or keeping secrets. _Harry mentally added._ "_We need you here! Go join Flitwick."

"But 'arry-"

"No buts, Hagrid! Go! _Accio Invisibility cloak_" Harry pointed his wand towards the castle. At first, it seemed that nothing happened but then he closed his hand around something and the air around seemed to ripple slightly. Proof that he intended to protect Hagrids friends. All of them. "Go! And everyone else, go to wherever you'll be the most useful." He then moved to put on the cloak, but his attention was drawn toward the castle by the thudding of hooves against the ground. Firenze was galloping down from the school and dashed past them without of second glance towards... the forbidden forest.

"Firenze, wait- _Accio Firebolt!_" A broom stick flew down from the castle and just as it came in range, Harry leapt on and soared after the centaur. "Firenze!"

"My people..." Firenze mumbled as Harry approached, not acknowledging the wizard's presence.

"Wha-?"

"The stars have been silent as of late, Harry." The palomino finally responded, indicating that he was very much aware of Harry's presence yet his gaze never wavered from the forest and his speed never slowed. "Whatever they are hiding from us is destroying my people!" with an extra burst of speed, Firenze plowed into the woods without another word and Harry nearly rammed into a tree.

After attempting to navigate the firebolt through the trees, even with all his skill and finesse, the broom was slowing him down. So he hopped off and bolted after the centaur on foot.

"Firenze? Firenze!"

_Harry! Watch out-_

"Sirius-" As Harry turned his head at the voice he slipped on something slick and promptly fell on his rear.

"Oww..." The young man reached up to rub the back of his sore head, he was getting a headache from all this, only to feel something sticky and viscous. He froze. _Blood?_ But he didn't hit his head. He immediately brought his hands up before his spectacled eyes and visually confirmed that the mysterious substances was indeed blood. His hands were covered in the biohazard, but it couldn't be his. His eyes wandered to the ground upon which he sat.

It definitely was **not** his blood.

The earth and the trees were bled. Pools of blood littered the ground and blood trickled down the bark in rivulets. There was so much blood. Harry's stomach churned and he nearly added his stomach's contents to the macabre environment. He was used to death, but in wizard battles, blood was rare. A result of injury due to projectile rubble or shrapnel, the results of bad aim.

He coughed and wheezed, trying to keep his stomach from expelling its contents and also because his lungs where having difficulty locating the oxygen amidst the copper that permeated the air. That's when he saw the source.

Ravaged corpses. Everywhere. All centaur.

Most were stabbed or had their throats slit, hence all the blood. Yet some had limbs sticking out at horribly awkward angles, and more had their necks snapped, their heads locked forever to either the left or the right. None of this made sense to Harry. Although centaurs were a neutral race, they were extremely dangerous. What kind of creature or weapon could do such damage?

_One not of this world._

Harry leapt back to his feet, nearly slipping again, and, with his wand out and ready, he followed the trail of carnage. He recognized some of the bodies as he passed. _Troublesome Bane... Ronan... Oh my, Magorian..._

He halted as the trail thinned out: Less blood, less bodies. He was passing through a pair of trees when a pair of silver pools locked onto his eyes. They were like liquid mercury, yet organic because he could _feel_them seeing him. No pupils to take in the light, just swirling pools of liquid metal.

So utterly entranced by the alien eyes, he barely noticed that the creature had a centaur by the throat, and a blade poised just above the jugular...


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. Riddick and his world belong to Universal. Plot based off summary written by Serpent in the Shadows.

**Author:** Mistina

**Beta-Reader:** insert your name here

**Pairings:** Harry/Riddick.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the evil cliffie and cruel wait that followed but... Honestly, I didn't think my second semester of college would bite me in the butt like it did. .

Forgive me?

I can't guarantee updates as fast as last year because I'm applying for a degree program that sucks all the life out of you and requires an IMPECCABLE portfolio submission by the end of the first year... damn... But I'll try, I swear! Anyways... Enjoy!

**Flames will be tolerated but reviews (with constructive criticism) would very much be appreciated. So, please R&R.**

-- -•- --

**Convert or Die**

-- -•- --

**Chapter 3**

The red haze. The primal subconscious of the Furyan. This, the animal portion of the Furyan mind is almost sentient. It has proven itself to be an independent consciousness by constantly warring against the humanoid, by repeatedly attempting to seize control of the life-form. Scientists that have studied this race have theorized that a Furyan's characteristic strength and aggressiveness stems directly from this endless struggle for dominance against the red haze.

However, one Furyan, the last Furyan, had ceased to resist a long time ago. Riddick succumbs willingly to the haze, embraces it, for it is in this crimson world in which he finds true freedom. There, the memories of the past cannot find him, the voices of the present cannot reach him and the bleak, shrouded future is nowhere to be seen. All burdens are washed away, diffusing into the sea of blood and are swept away by an invisible current.

One by one, the alien quadrupeds met his blade. Their blood was red. Red blood had the most comforting aroma: Warm, metallic copper. Much sweeter than the cold steel of Necropolis. So intoxicating. This scent fueled his bloodlust, his high, and, though scarlet, his world became lucid and tangible. Fluidly and gracefully, he propelled onwards, felling another hybrid and another. He was in complete control of his environment. He was free.

Suddenly, technicolor reality began to fog over his precious, lucid crimson. His senses, both animal and human, as they were currently in the process of transferring dominance, detected the approach of a new presence. By the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves crunching, Riddick determined that the intruder was not like his current quadruped prey.

It was a biped. A running biped. A running and panting biped.

Just as the haze was about to become completely eclipsed by reality, the intruder emerged from the shadows and suddenly halted between a pair of trees. Riddick snorted.

It was a humanoid boy. A humanoid boy in a _dress_. A humanoid boy in a dress wielding a _**stick**_!

Taask had said that Earth was a primitive planet, but this was ridiculous. It was obvious why the Necro endorsed this target. The abundance of life meant an abundance of possibilities. Possibilities for the development of new weaponry and military toys. However, if _this_ was all the dominant species had to offer, how on earth did Taask get his fellow commanders to back him when presenting this planet to-

His eyes suddenly locked upon those of the boy's.

Riddick's sight didn't allow for color, or much of any detail normally found in a conventional description of another being's eyes, but from what he **could**see, the boy's eyes weren't anything out of the ordinary, in the physical sense anyway. So why could he not pry his eyes away? Because they disturbed him.

Many of the cultures that he had annihilated over the last seven years shared a common belief that the eyes were the window to the soul. Whenever he heard this passing through one of those world's, he merely shrugged it off as a myth born out of a need to hide some weakness or another. However, gazing into this Terran's eyes, he found that he was sorely mistaken. This must be why he's so enthralled by the eyes creature before him: Its soul on display.

A chill suddenly ran down his spine, though his years of rigorous conditioning did not let it show.

It was not the boy's soul on display... It was Riddick's.

Recognizing that the darkness and pain was his own, the Lord Marshall immediately averted his eyes, realizing his mistake too late.

-- -•- --

When the alien broke eye contact with Harry, the wizard's eyes fluttered sluggishly as he struggled to recover the wits he hadn't realized he had lost. Only once he had regained his composure did he notice what the extraterrestrial held in his grasp.

"Firenze!" his once languid grasp on his wand was once again strong and confident as he brandished it. "_Accio Dagger!_"

Every syllable was carefully and purposefully uttered, his wand was pointed directly at the intruder's weapon and his piercing eyes bore holes into the blade. Thus the dagger was torn from the alien's grip by a powerful, invisible force, safely away from his friend's throat. As Harry caught the incoming blade awkwardly with his non dominant hand, he noted the surprise that flickered through the now disarmed creature's expression.

_He didn't know... He __**didn't**__ know! Shit!_**He**_'s going to be soooo pissed!_

The alien didn't know about magic, or about humans being able to use magic. Either way, Harry might have just robbed the earth of its one true advantage against these invaders.

_Shit, shit, __**shit!**_

His wand deftly held in his right hand, and the alien weapon held clumsily in his left, he focused his unwavering gaze on the enemy. However, he was careful to avoid eye contact. Instead, he concentrated on reading his opponent's body language, despite the little good it would do considering how easily and rapidly the creature hid his surprise. Harry was lucky to have noticed at all, even with his sensitive seeker eyes.

"Firenze, run!" he ordered the centaur, his voice as calm and confident as he could get it.

"But, Harry-"

"RUN!" the wizard barked at the his hesitant friend, quickly making eye contact with the quadruped in an attempt to rapidly and forcefully convey to Firenze all of his sympathies and his fervent determination through his gaze. This proved to be successful for the centaur was clearly taken aback and soon sprinted off into a thicket of bushes. Just as the centaur was swallowed up whole by the forest, and as Harry was returning his attention to the threat, did his mistake come and bite him in the butt... so to speak.

He was tackled to the ground and into a whirlwind of dirt and dust. His wand flew from his hand, as did his trophy blade. Though the wind was knocked out of him, and he was choking on the offending particles that suddenly permeated the air, his instincts kicked into high gear and adrenaline surged through his system allowing him to fight back. The pair wrestled about the ground for a good couple minutes but it only required a mere couple of seconds for Harry to realize that in this match of brawn, the murderous creature had the advantage. Even so, the-man-who-lived wasn't known as such for no reason. He wasn't going to die here or now.

Instinct drove him. Punching, kicking, elbowing. He didn't manage to draw blood, but he managed to inflict plenty of bruises. Well, he didn't think he drew blood. He really couldn't tell seeing that the alien was already covered in the sticky substance. This turned out to be an advantage. The alien was incredibly strong, a lean tower of pure muscle, but as they brawled, they were rolling all over the blood-soaked earth and the sudden slipperiness hindered their accuracy and force thus saving Harry a lot of pain. Not to say that Harry wasn't brutally bruised and bleeding profusely, he was, but it could have been much worse.

_If I survive this... Less video games, more quidditch..._

During a momentary lull in the fight, straddled by the alien, Harry huffed, "What gives you the... the right... to commit this... despicable atrocity?"

"The right?" the alien chuckled in a textured, baritone voice. Harry found it disturbingly soothing. "It wasn't about my right. It was about mercy."

"Mercy?!" Harry spat.

The alien cocked an eyebrow then settled himself comfortably atop him, causing the wizard to blush fiercely as he was unaccustomed with such intimacy. Also, this action implied that the invader intended on remaining in this position for a good while.

"Yes, merciful." it smirked as Harry's ears turned red, and lowered his face so that it hovered a mere inch or two from the wizard's own. "I allowed them honorable deaths in combat instead of having to be reduced to livestock, executed at the slaughterhouse." Harry would have snorted but the alien's closeness, its warm breath condensing on his cheek, caused enough discomfort for him to hesitate. Despite the lack of response, at this proximity the creature could not miss the anger flare up in his eyes. "You must have noticed they're ominous appearance over your world-"

"_They're?!_" Their positions were quickly reversed. The alien suddenly found himself pinned to the ground with the wizard straddling him. "Do**you** claim yourself to be independent of... whatever the bloody hell it was that landed in these woods? You **dare** to plead innocence?!"

"Oh, no." it smirked again as he refuted Harry, "I am most certainly not innocent and I would never make such a claim. As for your _guests_, I'm just hanging with them for the ride, speaking of which..." With amazing ease and grace, the alien suddenly jerked his weight to the left, destabilizing the wizard allowing it to swing Harry round and once more pinning him to the ground. Once it made certain that he had him thoroughly pinned, it slowly lowered its face until his lips barely brushed against his left ear. "I'm getting bored." it whispered. Harry flushed an unhealthy shade of Weasley red.

When the creature raised its head, their eyes almost met only Harry gaze was drawn to the crimson liquid splattered across the alien's face and the fury within was ignited.

Hoping desperately that the alien's human appearance meant it had human weaknesses, the wizard sharply kneed the creature between the legs. Lucky for Harry, he was right. Unlucky for Harry, the alien recovered quickly, or could repress the pain quickly. Either way, he found himself wrestling an alien much stronger and larger than himself once more. As they were grappling with each other they suddenly rolled into a patch of sunlight and the alien halted all struggling to cover his eyes.

_His eyes are sensitive to the light!_ Harry spied the googles that were haphazardly hanging from his enemy's head. _And those googles allow him to walk in daylight..._

Taking advantage of his opponent's temporary loss of sight, Harry quietly yet quickly summoned his wand to his hand. The alien reached for the black goggles strapped around his clean-shaven head, but just as his fingers wrapped around the smooth holly, Harry immediately reached over and snatched the goggles and hurled them away. The alien snarled and lunged at Harry only to hear the words "_Lumos_" and to be blinded by an unnaturally bright light. Then Harry ran.

-- -•- --

A cacophony of twig snaps, footfalls against the earth and scattering leaves alerted Riddick of his opponent's departure. Still suffering from shooting pains in his eyes and in his nether-regions, he resigned himself to recovering. He rolled to his side to rest and contemplate.

_How is it possible that the native held my soul in his eyes._ He wondered. _ And those tricks with the stick..._

When his sight returned, and the pain receded, Riddick groaned as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off as well as he could, which wasn't very well at all considering he was drenched in blood and the dirt clung to it. He then quickly retrieved his goggles and put them on. They wouldn't be coming off anytime soon.

_This world is turning out to be a lot more interesting than I had thought._

**BONUS FEATURES**

**VIDEO**

Because of the cruel cliffie and agonizing wait, I quickly put a Riddick video together on my youtube account... It would have been an attempt at vid crossover with HP but, my parents have the Harry Potter dvds and I'm not to fond of the movies or Mr Radcliffe. Check out my profile for the link.

**SPELLCHECK**

As I write this fic, Riddick's name is always underlined in red by my program. One day, I was curious enough to see just how my program intended to correct his name. Not all of them were interesting except for one solution which I would like to share with you all:

**Riddick -- Rid - Dick**

... I thought it was funny...

**NEXT TIME ON CoD**

New faces (though I don't doubt you guys will recognize them), an update on the invasion and more dreams.


	5. Chapter 4 Part 1

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. Riddick and his world belong to Universal. Plot based off summary written by Serpent in the Shadows.

**Author:** Mistina

**Beta-Reader:** Forget it... Maybe I'll fix it up later...

**Pairings:** Harry/Riddick.

**Author's Note:** Sorry, Sorry, Sorry! My life is work and school and school and work. I miraculously made it into the program and 2nd year design is supposed to be, and is, murderous.

I swear I will complete this fic, but right now I can only write during short bursts of free time and that is an amazingly slow process! Don't give up on me, guys! I'm in it for the long run!

So, I now present the first half of Chapter 4, the first half being the longest chapter to date, for your pleasure.

Enjoy.

**Flames will be tolerated but reviews (with constructive criticism) would very much be appreciated. So, please R&R.**

-- -•- --

**Convert or Die**

-- -•- --

**Chapter 4 - Part 1**

Riddick casually made his way through the forest back to Necropolis as he stretched his upper body, pulling his elbow with the opposite hand and jerking his head from side to side and whatnot, to relax his muscles and stimulate his parasympathetic system after having submitted to the red haze. Only then did he realize that the native did quite a number on him. Assessing the extent of his injuries, which wasn't all that extensive, he determined that only suffered a couple of harmless bruises, so he would only be sore for a couple of days. Nothing he couldn't handle. However, considering the circumstances, hand to hand combat against **one** being that is both younger and smaller than himself, he had endured a couple harmless bruises too many.

"_You could have come out free of injuries if you hadn't held back. Why did you?" _ came a harsh, effeminate voice from years long since past.

The encounter with the boy must have taken more out of the Lord Marshall than he had initially thought, for he found himself falling into his state of half sleep: his memories creeping into his mind and taking on a life of their own. Normally, he would attempt to ignore the specters that haunted his thoughts, but that particular statement had struck a cord.

He _had_ been holding back when he was fighting the kid... But why?

Thus he was drawn into his ghost-ridden mind...

_A petite woman with short blond hair, a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes stepped out of the darkness and into a mysterious spotlight. "I said I'd die for them, not you!" she cried, her voice breaking, as she whirled about to face him, revealing a gaping hole in her chest._

If he hadn't such a constrictive control over his physical reactions, he would have winced at the statement that had haunted him for years. Not that he was currently in control of his body: it continued to work its way back to Necropolis as Riddick suffered the apparitions in his mind's so called state of repose.

"_Who would you die for, I wonder?" she pondered aloud as she started to pace, the sourceless beam of light following her every move. She crossed her arms over her flat chest, hiding the offending reminder of her death, raising a hand to scratch her temple in thought. "I ask this only because I realize that there is no point in asking you who you would kill for. You kill for yourself, you kill for no one and nothing. You just kill. You can kill, but can you die? Can you die for another?"_

_Everyone worth dying for is dead_, Riddick replied mentally but the ghost of the past didn't seem to be listening as she continued on without hesitation.

"_Who would die __**for**__ you? Willingly, with all their heart."_

His chest suddenly constricted.

"_Do you even have a heart? Where is your heart?"_

_It died along with those I would have died for_. He was now having difficulty breathing.

"_Have you ever loved?"_

With those final words, she was swallowed up by the dark abyss and silence followed.

Riddick was alone in a soundless and dark void when suddenly another figure attempted to emerge from the darkness. Familiar yet unfamiliar. Another woman but this one was muscular, obviously a warrior. He was used to this nameless woman throwing a hissy fit every time his mind rested, but this time her voice was lethargic and sad.

"_Why have you abandoned us-"_

Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, all voices were silenced and all haunts were banished and all that remained in the darkness was a pair of dazzling eyes. The very same pair that had disturbed him, he now found soothing. The native's soul, his soul, lingered in the dark depths of the pupils, and were enshrined in a ring of...

_Green..._

Before Riddick could puzzle out just how exactly he knew the color of the boy's eyes, just how it was possible that he could even visualize a color his eyes could not register, much less name it, he found himself fully wakeful, approaching his throne in the vast, steel halls of the mother-ship of his armada.

"Welcome **back**, my lord..." a familiar, feminine voice, forced through clenched teeth, resonated within the vast hall of Necropolis. Riddick chuckled at the obviously angry tone. He had forgotten all about the game he had started with his toys.

"Why, thank you dame Vaako." He greeted the intruder, abusing his rank before her eyes by swaggering up to his throne and promptly draping himself across it. "May I ask why you honor me with your glorious presence?" He asked with a mock aristocratic air, bowing his head slightly in his seat to emphasize his sarcasm.

A slim woman slithered out of the shadows and reluctantly kneeled before the Lord Marshall. Her dark hair was pulled back taut and smooth and she wore a skin tight dress of reptilian scales. She not only dressed the part and walked the walk, but she had the fangs to match. Dame Vaako was a dangerous creature, and yet, he couldn't help but provoke the serpent.

"Milord," she nearly growled, somehow managing to subdue her anger. Riddick was disappointed. "I merely come to inquire about our current situation..."

_Bull._

"Well... I haven't met up with my generals yet, seeing that I have just returned and am now talking to you-"

"That is not what I meant, milord." Her poorly muted glare seemed to add, _and you know it_. Yes, he did realize that she had come to vent her anger, but he was the Lord Marshall of the Necromongers, thus went met with diplomacy he shoots to kill.

"Really? And here I thought you actually cared about your husband, fighting for the cause out on the front-line. Then again, I suppose you really don't have to worry about him... He's very resilient for a foot soldier-"

"My lord!" her cool facade cracked, as she finally clarified through clenched teeth. "Why is the armada here?"

"You don't know? We're on vacation!" Riddick answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, barely containing his smirk. At the noblewoman's pointed glare, he continued, " Are you implying that you do not like it here?"

"Of course not, milord-"

"Good." He cut her off sharply and hopped off his throne to saunter off. "Then if you'll excuse me, I have a war to check up on. Continue enjoying your holiday. Who knows how long it will last. Could be short or it could go on forever, and ever, and ever, and ever..."

As he stalked off, he worked hard to stifle his chuckles and wished dearly he could see her fuming expression. Alas, turning around would diminish the effect of his dramatic and insulting exit, so he continued toward the strategy 'room' without a single glance backward, savoring the torment he's instilled in his toy.

Arriving, he found two of his three generals lounging about, looking desperately bored. The massive Pax was listlessly sharpening his axe, with a large pile of already sharpened weapons, ranging from sword to spear to scythe, lying next to him, glinting in the dim light. The hawk like Xal sat stiffly next to the the liquid map. Like a vulture, his unwavering gaze fixated upon the table awaiting news of the conquest.

"Why am I not surprised to find the two of you here."

Xal and Pax leaped to attention at their leader's utterance of the first syllable.

"I get the impression that Taask is the only one enjoying the vacation you **three **suggested? Why did you suggest it in the first place?" the Lord Marshall continued in his sultry baritone voice and slow, casual manner of speaking.

"Taask was adamant." replied Xal cooly.

"You know that Taask is dangerous, that's why you promoted him!" Pax all but roared.

"Come to think of, you're in no place to look down on us." Xal mused, not offensively but more observantly. "After all, you are here as well. Why_ are_ you here?"

"Touché!" conceded Riddick. "However, I am not letting my curiosity get in the way of my fun... Come to think of it, this is an excellent learning experience."

"How so?" inquired Xal suspiciously, narrowing his beady eyes. Pax was obviously outraged, but said nothing.

"This planet has revealed your weaknesses."

"Weaknesses?!" bellowed Pax. Xal winced at the insinuation.

"Yup. Now we can fix these weaknesses right here and now." under the vicious glares of his officers, the Lord Marshall quickly added, "Think of it this way, it's something to do...." the glares did not waver nor diminish in intensity. "I order you both to get a hobby!"

"A HOBBY?!" Pax and Xal spat in unison, the latter raising his voice for the first time in this conversation.

"Don't get me wrong, you're dedication to the cause and unwavering loyalty to Necromonger-kind is admirable and highly appreciated, but this narrows your horizons. Its unhealthy to have only ONE thing on the mind. That is why you need to open your minds to at least one other thing. I mean, Underverse would be quite boring once we find it if every Necromonger thinks of nothing but... Underverse. Everyone would just be sitting there doing nothing in the dark...."

Pax grounded his teeth, Xal seethed and Riddick suppressed his mirth.

"My lord," Xal began, quickly silencing his companion before he lost control over his rage. "_Hobbies_ are distractions thus they _are_ weaknesses."

"You are right, Xal. A hobby is a weakness, unless it is used to cancel out another, more dangerous weakness." Riddick began to pace, circling around his generals. "You, my generals, never take your attention away from your projects and goals, which are all one in the same, and this makes one more prone to mistakes because your eyes become used to the sight before them and allow mistakes and threats to blend in and disappear."

Xal frowned, frustrated at seeing reason in his lord's words, so he bowed his head in respect and agreement. Pax, on the other hand, still did not understand the logic and was still enraged, but he remained silent upon seeing that his wiser colleague had submitted, though unwillingly, to their leader's orders. Satisfied with the submission of his generals, Riddick moved on.

"Good. Now before you move out to carry out your new missions, what news from the front?"

Pax's rage was instantly extinguished at the mere mention of battle and Xal relaxed visibly. The larger man immediately jumped towards the three dimensional strategy table, Xal patiently waiting for his turn, and manipulated the strange liquid substance with gestures of his hands.

"Our armies have successfully disarmed the planet of its most 'lethal' weapons within the first hour." A large sphere emerged from the table and hovered above it, and land masses quickly surfaced to show that it was a representation of the earth. With another wave of his hand, there were explosions in every country with nuclear capability. "The rest of the evening was spent wiping out all armies." With a few more gestures, the sphere was reabsorbed into the table which then rippled to form a cityscape full of extremely primitive war machines and humans armed with dated weapons. More figures emerged, obviously Necromongers because of their armor and advanced weaponry.

Xal stepped forward and continued the report, Pax stepped back without any argument and with a large grin on his face. "Now, our soldiers are sweeping the planet to weed out any remaining armies and final attempts at organized resistance," one by one the human representation burst and were reabsorbed by the table surface, "while Purifers are herding survivors and preparing to convert them." The table rippled once more, and now a three dimensional amphitheater formed with a lone figure on the stage, guards at all the exits and humans huddled around the purifier. "They anticipate that it will go smoothly seeing as the races of this world are, for the most part, cowardly as they value their lives over their morals and beliefs."

The lord marshall approached the table slowly, his generals flinching at his less than enthusiastic reaction, and gazed upon the rippling surface deep in thought.

_Green eyes._

"Have any of the armies noticed anything... strange?"

"Strange, my lord?"

Riddick struggled for words. "Did any of the natives display any signs of... unexpected abilities?"

The generals were silent, and looked to one another for a sign that the other knew what their leader spoke of. When all they received were blank expressions that matched their own, Xal cleared his throat.

"There haven't been any reports of any strange incidents..." he narrowed his eyes suspiciously before continuing, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Riddick replied quickly, staring down his commanding officer, dispelling any further questions or even further thought on the matter. A heavy silence ensued.

"Well. If that's all you have to report, it's time you started on your mission." Two jaws dropped and Riddick suppressed a chuckle.

"B-b-but, Lord Marshall!" Pax bellowed after his leader's retreating form.

"My lord!" Xal cried.

Riddick merely replied, "You have your orders!" and continued on his way with a smirk on his lips. He returned to the vast throne chamber and approached his cold steel throne. He slid his fingers across the smooth metallic surface of the armrest, listless as he waded through his thoughts.

_Either the native was an anomaly, suffered a genetic mutation... Or the witnesses are too embarrassed to report any similar incidents._

He slowly circumvented the armrest and climbed the steps to his throne. He laid back into the seat and shifted about until he was comfortable. Resting his elbow on the armrest and his chin on his palm, he remained pensive.

_I wonder which it was..._ His lips curved into a smile. _What a wonderful vacation this turned out to be._

**Next Time on CoR:**

**_Harry Potter's aftermath of the encounter:_**

**_Introduction of more allies, the wizarding world's current status in the face of invasion, and, of course, dreams!_  
**


End file.
